


A Night At Tom Bombadil's

by orphan_account



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A garden, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, an angry tree, fluff gone sexual, nightly noises, pippin trying to sing, rowdy songs, sam being comforting, slightly drunk hobbits, tom Bombadil's house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 18:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After the hobbits' near demise with Old Man Willow, they find themselves in the safety of Tom Bombadil's house. The night consists of intoxicating magic water, a nightmare of Nazguls, and eventual lovemaking under the stars.





	A Night At Tom Bombadil's

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I borrowed some direct quotes and song verses from the book, The Fellowship of The Ring. These borrowed clips found in this fic are the property of the great author, J.R.R. Tolkien! This is mainly due to me trying to incorporate some canon (besides the obvious). ;)

    “Blasted tree!” Frodo said as he coughed up a good amount of the Withywindle. Sam sat back, exerted by the effort of dragging Frodo from under the willow’s stubborn roots. The two searched frantically for Merry and Pippin, but they were also trapped in the tree’s grasp. The hobbits were losing hope and crying for help when they heard a curious voice approaching:

    Hey _dol! Merry dol! Ring a dong_ dillo _!_

_Ring a dong! Hop along!_ Fal lal _the willow!_

_Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!_

    And out he jumped, Tom Bombadil, feathered hat and all. With a few soothing stanzas from the old man, the willow released its hold on Merry and Pippin and the four travelers were safe once more, except this time with a friendly, curious fellow among them.

***

    The warm candlelight glowed on the hobbit’s joyful faces as they sat around the table under Tom Bombadil’s roof. Tom sat at one end of the table and his wife, Goldberry, sat at the other, each passing generous portions of dripping honeycomb and cream to and fro amongst their guests. The hobbits each held in front of them a wooden bowl containing a cold, clear liquid like water. But when they sipped it, it warmed their throats and twinkled in their eyes. Soon the four hobbits, tired from their long journey and slightly delirious, broke into chorals of laughter and song. Yet their voices grew to resemble those that had stayed a few too many hours late at the Green Dragon as opposed to a devout choir. Chaos was tiptoeing just behind the corner.

    Suddenly Frodo, with his mop of dark curls in a mess (most likely the work of Merry’s wandering hands), started belting one of Bilbo’s verses:

    _There is an inn, a merry old inn_

_Beneath an old grey hill,_

_And there they brew a beer so brown_

_That the Man in the Moon himself came down_

_One night to drink his -_

“Frodo that’s absolute rubbish!!” Shouted Pippin’s high lilted voice.

“No it’s not! It’s one of Bilbo’s songs, and mind you he’s very proud of it!” Frodo retorted, getting a little defensive, though he still had a happy smirk on his lips.

“I’ll show you a song to be proud of,” and with that Pippin theatrically shoved back his chair and moved to climb onto the table.

“Oh no you don’t, Pip!” Merry said as he nudged his giggling, red-faced cousin back down again. Sam raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. All the while, Goldberry was becoming weary of the hobbits’ drunken state, and skeptically eyed her husband across the table. Taking that as a cue, Tom rose from his seat and guided the snickering hobbits into the neighboring room to their chairs by the fireplace. The candles on the mantelpiece conducted the place to a nocturnal dance of shadows and light, and the hobbit’s eyelids grew heavy as they muttered inaudibly around the fire.

“I never got to thank you for dragging me from under that wretched tree, Sam,” Frodo turned and lazily smiled.

“Of course, ‘tis nothing sir...” Sam mumbled, his blush invisible in the dim firelight. With that, Tom Bombadil strolled in and led the hobbits to their beds, murmuring, “Fear nothing, young masters. Have peace ‘til morning. Heed no nightly noises, fear no grey willow!” And with a smile the old man left the room.

***

    The moonlight glanced across the hobbit’s sleeping faces, each lost in his own dreams. Frodo shifted to and fro underneath the heavy mattress, for black riders cloaked in shadow galloped across his mind and the fell cries of wolves and orcs echoed in his ears. There was no escaping, he was trapped, and the towering dark figures circled him with gleaming swords, a scream pierced the air…

Frodo woke with a cry and sat up in bed. The ring was hot against his chest.

“Mr. Frodo?” Sam nervously whispered from across the room. When Frodo didn’t respond, thoughts of his dream still playing in his mind, Sam rushed over to Frodo’s bedside. He took one of Frodo’s hands which was still involuntarily shaking.

“What is it sir?” Sam asked.

“Just a nightmare Sam, although this one was different… somehow… it, it felt so real.” Frodo clutched the ring from under his nightshirt.

“Twas just a dream, Mr. Frodo, we’re all safe here. No need to fret,” Sam reassured with a smile. Frodo gazed up at Sam, his concerned far off look unraveling into a lazy grin.

“Hmm, ha well I suppose you know best Samwise Gamgee...” Frodo slurred, still slightly intoxicated, and fell forward with a light kiss on Sam’s nose.

“Now Mr. Frodo why’d you do _that_?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Hm, don’t know just felt like it,” Frodo continued in a sing-songy voice, “like the birds feel like chirping.”

“Oh you just _felt_ like it now?” Sam smirked and leaned in to place a kiss on Frodo’s nose in payback, but in the dim light he landed right on Frodo’s mouth. Frodo gave a stifled sound of surprise but began kissing Sam back, driven by an urgency he didn’t know he possessed, and the two soon found themselves suddenly caught in each other’s embrace, kissing and tangling together like vines on a garden wall. Frodo leaned forward and his hands clasped Sam’s broad shoulders as he tilted his jaw to fit their mouths deeper together. Sam moaned and started to pull at the buttons of his shirt when he suddenly became aware of Merry and Pippin’s presence in the room, who seemed to be caught in fitful dreams.

“We’d best be careful not to wake them up,” Sam gasped pulling away.

“True, we better find somewhere else to go,” Frodo breathed, brows furrowing in thought. Then Tom’s words seemed to echo in his ears; _Nothing passes doors or windows save moonlight and starlight and the wind off the hill-top…_

Frodo turned to Sam and said with a grin, “follow me!” Sam cocked his head but obeyed, letting Frodo lead the way through the quiet hallways of Tom’s cottage and out the door into the garden. The stone house was perched on a knoll that sprouted from amongst the dense forest. A stream that originated from a small pool decorated with pink and white lilies trickled down the slope. The night was a pleasant temperature, and the lawn held no dew. Frodo clutched Sam’s hand behind his as they stumbled through the garden. Still weary from their day’s journey, the two collapsed on a warm, soft bed of moss hidden amongst the tall hydrangeas. Their hands wandered back to each other and they grinned as the passion took hold again.

Sam was shaken from his dream-like state by the unique warm feeling down…there, and asked before it was too late, “Mr. Frodo, are.. are you sure you really want to do this?”

Frodo, shaken by Sam’s words, looked out over the hill towards the night-shrouded forest below. The moonlight cast soft shadows under his cheekbones and paled his red lips. His dark brows furrowed, he said: “I don’t know, what I was feeling was like a pent-up yearning inside me that has finally burst. I haven’t felt these emotions in a long time...” He turned to Sam and said, “The ring has burdened me with a constant state of fear and caution, all I want is to forget that for love,” he paused, “but what do you want, Sam?”

A twinkle came across Sam’s eyes, and with a grin he said, “just to kiss you until my lips are numb and all I can think of is you, Mr. Frodo.”

“Oh Sam!” Frodo smiled and they were frantically lost in one another's arms again. Frodo fell under Sam’s weight amongst the flowers and greenery and moaned as their tongues danced amongst each other, sending shivers like the ice-cold waters of the Brandywine trickling down his spine and collecting low in his abdomen. All the emotion brought on by their secret gazes for each other and their shared conversations burst like a dam and flowed with a fiery warmth through their bodies. Their moans and gasps carried through the air like the misty breeze.

“Will they hear us Mr. Frodo?” Sam’s words were muffled by their kisses. Frodo breathed, “no, no remember when.. ah.. Tom Bombadil said that.. that only the sound of the wind shall pass the windows?”

“Oh right,” Sam grinned, his freckled face balanced just above Frodo’s. Instead of moving back towards Frodo’s swollen lips, Sam peppered kisses along Frodo’s jawline, eliciting a sharp gasp from the hobbit. Frodo untangled his hands from Sam’s auburn locks and slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. He bit his lip and arched his back, locking his deep blue-eyed gaze on Sam’s, while slowly twisting each button out of its clasp. Sam shuddered at the sight. He found that he couldn’t take it any longer, and swiftly pulled the unbuttoned shirt off Frodo’s arms, exposing his fair chest. He dived down, continuing his onslaught of kisses down Frodo’s neck. Sam’s terribly present hardness pressed on Frodo’s thigh through his trousers as he moved down his body, causing a deep blush over his freckles as he smothered more kisses over Frodo’s skin. Over the ridge of his collarbone, then down his chest. Frodo cried out as Sam placed his mouth over his hardened nipple. The lean muscles of Frodo’s abdomen tightened under Sam’s hand as he continued to tease with his lips and teeth. Frodo weakly smiled through his moans, lighting a fire within Sam, who loved how he was able to give Frodo such pleasure.

“Sam. Please,” Frodo gasped as he fumbled with the ties of his breeches. His arousal was obvious under the thick fabric. After a few moments of fumbling, Frodo and Sam were both completely naked, and Sam with a blush was aware he was on top of Frodo in a straddling position. They both stared at each other in anticipation for a few seconds, then Frodo half chuckled, half moaned with a weak smile at the tightness in his groin. Sam returned his smile, yet his soft brown eyes betrayed his nervousness from such the close intimacy. Eyes locked on Frodo’s, he tentatively moved his hand down from Frodo’s navel to his arousal and gently seized it in his calloused hand. Frodo’s curls fell back and his mouth parted in a silent gasp. Sam stroked Frodo’s length steadily but then started speeding up in tune to his own instinctive rhythm on top Frodo, bending down occasionally to connect their mouths in a deep kiss. They continued their lovemaking under the traveling stars until bliss and satisfaction took hold and they came to the end.

Warm, pleasant tiredness seeped through the two hobbits as they laid in each other’s arms, breathing heavily. Sleep eventually took hold of Frodo and Sam until only the distant chirping of crickets and the hobbits’ soft breaths were heard.

***

    The four hobbits awoke in the morning clothed in soft linens and tucked under their fluffed, white mattresses. Frodo vaguely remembered the events that took place during the night with a flutter in his stomach. He and Sam made quick eye contact across the sun-bathed room and shared a grin like children who’ve succeeded in stealing a piece of honey cake. With eyes still heavy from sleep, the four companions padded into the main room to a table piled with breakfast. Tom Bombadil entered not soon after with warm words of greeting. Seeing Frodo and Sam, the old man smiled and gave them a knowing wink.

 

_Fini_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that Tom Bombadil had a little something to do with Frodo and Sam's romance by helping set the whole affair up... for example; the water found around his table was "like wine" (surprisingly - actually canon) and his guarantee of a noiseless sleep for all the hobbits... that's how I like to interpret it, anyway. ;)


End file.
